


We'll Always Have San Junipero

by ProspertheXVIII



Category: Black Mirror, RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: 1920s, 1950s, 1970s, Angst, Attempted Suicide, Crossover, F/F, Future, Mother-Daughter Relationship, San Junipero, Smut, Songfic, Time Travel, girlfriend in a coma, period fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-03-04 22:21:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13374252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProspertheXVIII/pseuds/ProspertheXVIII
Summary: Spending the night wrapped in each other in a jazz and liquor-fuelled Gatsby escapade, Bianca doesn't realise how hard and how fast she has fallen for Courtney, this beautiful stranger she thought she'd never find outside of a dream.Only problem being - Bianca has been comatose for five years. And Courtney has been dead for six.





	1. 1926: I Love My Baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This idea was impulsive as hell, but I figured there wasn't nearly enough Bitney heartbreak in this fandom. Plus I was just so taken by 'San Junipero' that I couldn't resist writing this.
> 
> The time periods and situations are different to those within the actual show, just for the sake of this not being a direct retelling. Take it as 'inspired by' but not 'based on'. You definitely don't have to have seen Black Mirror to get this - just a quick Google of what San Junipero actually is will probably suffice.
> 
> Anyhow - on with the bullshit. Hope you enjoy!

_ Talk about your famous love affairs. _ __  
_ Romeo and Juliet had theirs. _ __  
_ I just found someone, and someone found me; _ _  
_ __ We’re not really famous, but who cares?

 

* * *

_ 1926 _

Bianca twirled a lock of her bobbed hair around one finger, leaning both elbows against the bar as she nursed her gin and tonic between her gloved hands. She felt the loud jazz surging through her body, rocking her to her core like a second pulse; the tiny dance floor packed with couples lindy-hopping and charlestonning this way and that. A haze of lilac smoke hung three feet below the ceiling in a cloud - the smell of tobacco and cheap liquor familiar and cathartic to her despite the total unfamiliarity of the setting. The tiny speakeasy felt so unfathomably alive for being full of the dead. 

She sipped her drink through a black plastic straw, leaving a scarlet rim of lipstick around it. Loathe as she was to admit it, Adore in all her protesting had kind of been... _ right _ ? It was damn lonely, not knowing anybody. But who really cared? She was twenty-one again; full of vitality and booze - the gin in hand her fourth of the night - doing exactly what she wanted without anybody in her ear to complain about her doing it. She had limited time here, and she’d be damned if she wasn’t going to use it.

She toyed with the draping crepe silk of one sleeve of her pleated Delphos gown - the garment floor-length and stunning, exactly the sort of thing she’d have died for back in the day. She’d been in and out of about five different styles of flapper getup since arriving, but they all had this costume party quality to them that she hadn’t cared for, and with this at her disposal, she’d have been a fool not to make use of it. However, class and taste had been two memos that everyone else had missed; rouged knees and rolled stockings on the legs of almost every woman in the place, Marcel waves and jewelled headbands. She’d indulged in the two latter trends; her own hair finger-curled and slicked-back, an ostentatious hunk of art deco diamante resting on her forehead. She felt like a million dollars. 

“First night?” Bianca turned her head to the woman who’d seemingly materialised by her side; a tiny, coquettish little blonde in pale-pink fringe with a feather in her hair. She had a smile on her face and a martini glass in one hand. Bianca gave a small laugh at her choice of conversation starter.  
“What makes you think that?”   
“What, besides you standing here, alone, like a fucking gooseberry when there’s so much fun to be had with everyone else? Hmm, let me think…” She placed one red lacquered nail on her chin, bobbing her head to one side. Bianca scoffed, her eyes rolling as she took another drink; the other’s energy somehow infectious, lightening her mood by two or three shades with absolute ease.    
“Shut up,” Bianca said through a chuckle, throwing a light, poorly-aimed skiff at the other’s hand, just skimming the top of her arm. 

“I’m Courtney.” She pulled up a bar stool, sitting down only to drain her glass of its contents in one swallow and raise a hand to grab the bartender’s attention for another.   
“Bianca. Bianca Del Rio.” The brunette perched by her side on another stool, swinging her high-heeled feet. “This sure as shit isn’t your decade, is it, Miss Courtney?”   
She shook her head, airy and grinning. “Nope, and it isn’t anybody else here’s either.” She shrugged. “We’re all just arseholes who read  _ Gatsby _ in high school and thought it would be fun. Weren’t wrong.”  
“Speak for your damn self - I made it through high school without doing a single page of the assigned reading - I just like the fashion here.” Bianca shrugged.  
“Wow, you’ve got to be the first person I’ve ever met who’s smug because she’s  _ not _ read  _ The Great Gatsby _ . That’s impressive.” Bianca raised a kohled eyebrow, Courtney descending into a fit of giggles. “God, this is amazing. You almost kind of forget that you’re breaking the law by getting pissed, don’t you?”  
“Does it matter? I think enforcement of prohibition in the actual 1920s was a bit lax.” She said with a breathy laugh, exhaling through her nose; the warmth of the other body next to her far from unwelcome. Courtney’s brow was slicked with a fine mist of sweat from dancing, her painted nails chipped and a single curl having broken free from her updo, cascading down into her face. She had this sweet, almost childlike quality to her that was like some sort of mask for the true underlying sex appeal. This girl was hot, and she knew all about it. Bianca finished her drink, continuing. “I don’t think they have police or whatever here anyway - seems like a waste of time.” 

“Oh, hoity-toity, Little Miss ‘I’ve been here for two hours and yet somehow still know everything’.” Courtney jibed, lightly digging a pointed elbow into Bianca’s ribs, the other woman folding her arms, sticking her bottom lip out. “I’m only teasing, sweetie. Don’t sulk, it doesn’t suit you.”  
“Rude.”   
“Well, would it make a difference if I told you that I think you’re incredibly pretty, and that I’m short a dance partner?” She cocked her head to one side, twirling that one stray curl around her little finger with a playful grin on her face. Fuck. Bianca couldn’t help but think she was utterly delicious. She’d fooled around with girls in her college days, and her interest in them had never exactly declined even after she got married. Sure, choosing to settle with Justin had been utilitarian as much as anything else - her being with a man was much easier to explain to her parents, after all - but caution could go to the wind now. What was the worst that could happen?

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were flirting with me.”   
“That may have something to do with the fact that I am, silly.” Courtney draped one arm around Bianca’s waist, her fingers tapping on B’s hip along to the music. “What, you straight or something?”   
“No,” she said pointedly, unashamed of admitting it when her actions right now had no reporcussions - hell, they couldn’t kill her. They couldn’t even hurt her. “I have got two left feet, though. And I’m not drunk enough not to care about that.”  
“Let me fix that,” Courtney smirked, waving down the barman again - soon enough, Bianca had another full glass resting in front of her. She laughed. “Hmm, this is great fun, isn’t it? Living in a decade with no morals, in a world with no consequences? Seems like heaven.”   
“It’s as close as some of us are ever gonna get.” Bianca muttered, fishing the grapefruit slice out of her glass and nibbling on it. 

“So, you’re just a part-timer, then?”  
She nodded. “You?”   
“Oh, no way. I died years ago.” She shrugged, talking about it casual as can be as she stirred her mint julep. “One second I’m at a party, happy as you like - someone was passing pills around, and I was too drunk to say no. Next thing I know, I’m in an ambulance. Then I wake up here. Well, not  _ here _ .” She shrugged, curling one lip in a sort of blase fashion. “Still in San Junipero, just a different time. Overdose - turns out that pure MDMA isn’t the best thing for you.” She gave a small laugh. “I mean, they  _ did _ teach you not to take  _ candy _ from strangers when you were little - you’d think my stupid arse would probably have figured that the same goes for drugs.”   
“Idiot.” Bianca scoffed a little.    
“Idiot who just bought you a drink.” Courtney reminded her, her hand on Bianca’s shoulder. “So, what brings you here?” 

 

“Car accident.” Bianca turned away at this, staring at the opposite wall. Accident was perhaps euphemising it a little, but it was all she was willing to admit to. “I’m currently comatose and quadriplegic, on five hours a week whilst they figure out what to do with me.” She scowled a little, her tone flat. “You’d think that four and a half years would be enough time to do said figuring out, but hey.”   
“Well, you’re here now.” Courtney smiled, stroking Bianca’s hair back behind one ear, toying with her earring. “Your jewelry is gorgeous. Very classy. I like it.”  
“Thank you.” She felt a light blush rising to her cheeks. “You’re very sweet.” 

“And you’re hot.” Courtney gave a flirtatious little smirk, taking another drink. Bianca remained silent, biting her lip and staring at the bar before Courtney grabbed her hand, pulling to her feet. Bianca stumbled a little, startled - her tipsiness catching up on her as she stood; Courtney grabbing her around the waist to steady her. Bianca feel against her, the two laughing. “Come on, you’ve gone all mopey on me. Lighten up - let’s go dance!”  
“Courtney-”  
“It’ll be fun - don’t worry about it!” She grinned; so at ease and comfortable in the presence of Bianca, in spite of having met her all of about ten minutes ago, that it was just gorgeous. She had that same sort of ease that most would expect around a lifelong friend, her presence warm and comforting. Some bullshit about kismet, or guardian angels sprung to Bianca’s mind, before she pushed it away with a small laugh. Utter bullshit. This was all computer-generated for fuck’s sake, and she didn’t even believe in that crap in the real world. What she had here was just a charming, slightly inebriated blonde with a lot of confidence who’d inexplicably taken a liking to her. Nothing more. “We can do that whole ‘getting to know each other’ crap later.”  
“Later?” Bianca raised an eyebrow.  
“Well, let’s just say that that dress looks lovely on you, sweetheart, but I think it would look even better in a ball on my bedroom floor.” 

* * *

 

More than a few sharp learning curves had come for Bianca in the last few hours; the one that stuck out in her mind was how unamenable lingerie circa 1926 was to casual sexual encounters. 

They arrived back in Courtney’s little apartment in a stumbling mess of hands and kisses - they’d kissed one another fervently, Courtney pressed up against the closed door to her room, one hand slipping down the zip of Bianca’s dress. Bianca had left her any preexisteing nerves about how she felt for this beautiful Aphrodite on the dancefloor back at the speakeasy. The black silk eventually fell into a pool at her feet, and the two gave up denying what they had come for. Courtney’s dress had been pulled off and discarded in the corner of the room in one swift movement as she pushed Bianca down onto the bed, the brunette landing on her back. Courtney, nude save for stockings and a suspender belt, placed one knee between Bianca’s thighs, climbing atop her and pinning her arms above her head; dipping her head to kiss her more ferociously, barely giving the other woman enough room to breathe.

Bianca lifted her hips to grind against Courtney’s thigh, letting slip the tiniest of moans as Courtney unfastened her bra, hands light and deft as they stroked down the now-bare flesh of her back. Her head dipped down to Bianca’s nipple, lips touching and sucking at her flesh. Bianca felt her body twitch, muscles trembling and mouth emitting a small murmur that sounded almost like Courtney’s name. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt pleasure of this sort - her arms still pinned down by Courtney's hand, the woman’s fingers now toying with her other nipple. Courtney’s breath was heavy and her jaw hanging half-open, eyes hooded and bright as she looked up through her dishevelled hair to Bianca’s face.  It was just bliss. 

Courtney’s hands then moved down to Bianca’s waist, slowly working the high-waisted bodice and garter belt down her hips; her hands kneaded into her asscheeks as she went. Bianca shuddered, now that her hands were free they shifted to Courtney’s bare breasts, making the other woman whine, a blissful smile on her face. She kicked her underwear off as it reached her knees, stockings coming off with everything else in a silky tangle. Courtney bobbed her head down , one hand on each of Bianca’s thighs; spreading them apart to kiss softly up the insides of Bianca’s legs. The brunette moaned and sighed, her breath fast and heavy with anticipation. Just as those pink-stained rosebud lips  reached the top of her thigh - Bianca so overwhelmed by her lust and desire that she felt she could explode - Courtney continued her progression up towards Bianca’s stomach, a disgruntled murmur coming from the other woman.

“Fuck you.” She breathed, one hand now on the back of Courtney’s head. Bianca noticed in that moment that she was still wearing her black opera gloves, an enormous ring on her middle finger. Courtney glanced up from Bianca’s stomach, leaving the last of her lipstick in a kiss mark an inch below her navel, a wicked smirk on her face.  
“Can I help you?”  
“If you’re fucking me, fuck me.” She breathed, her hand buried in Courtney’s hair. The blonde laughed against her tanned skin; wordless and unprotesting, bringing her head back down to between Bianca’s legs. 

Her lips gently made first contact with Bianca’s clit, barely touching her and yet the action was enough to make her melt. It was as though literally nothing else mattered - and despite the fact that the night was probably mostly full of vegetables and departed OAPs getting their kicks now that they were back in their younger years - a weird sort of CG mass sex dream - it felt as though she and this perfect stranger who’d been dead for years were the only two people in that world that existed at all.

Courtney’s tongue swirled lightly around Bianca’s clit, the other woman having to resist full-out fucking the blonde’s face as one hand gripped Courtney’s hair and the other the cream silk sheets. This girl was a master with her mouth in both the talking and banging senses, her head now bobbing down to tongue the skin around Bianca’s opening. She wrapped her legs around Courtney’s back, virtually constricting her head with her thighs as her back arched; dying for skin-on-skin contact with the other, gasping with each touch and movement. 

Her affection had grown more deliberate and harsh now that she had Bianca dripping wet and putty in her hands; lips focused in on her clitoris, licking and nibbling and sucking in exactly the right places, her tongue pressing down harder with each movement, even as Bianca tugged her hair and bucked against her face. One of Courtney’s hands rested on Bianca’s hip, holding her steady as the other traced delicate circles around her vagina. Deft fingers brushed against damp skin as one slipped inside; Bianca whimpered, her back arching to an S as more incoherent words left her lips. Courtney muttered something in return against her clit, the vibrations making her shake as a second finger joined the first in her, Courtney moving them in and out with slow, steady rhythm; keeping time with Bianca’s thrusts.

“God, you taste amazing…” Courtney brought her head up for a moment, Bianca pushing her back down as the first wave of an oncoming orgasm washed over her; the grip of her legs around Courtney’s slim form growing tighter and her moans louder. Courtney hooked her fingers - continuing to stroke with her tongue and murmur and hum, pushing Bianca right to the brink and holding her there for a second or two until the climax came in a sudden, overwhelming rush. She cried out at this, her muscles in spasm and gorgeous electric fireworks going off behind her closed eyes. Her every attempt at remaining quiet had been thrown to the wind as Courtney dug her nails into the flesh of her hip, slowing her movements as Bianca’s body went limp and her grip loosened, legs unfolding behind her back - breath heavy and eyes half-shut. Courtney pulled out of her, bringing her head up and laying it down on Bianca’s chest, the brunette giving a sound that would have been a laugh had she not been so utterly breathless. Courtney stroked Bianca’s stray hair away from her face, one hand resting atop her breast. 

“How’d you like that, B? Can I call you B?”   
“Sure…” She said, her voice a breathy, husky whisper. “God, that was incredible. You’re incredible…” She placed one hand on Courtney’s waist, stroking her thigh. “I can give you something in return, if you like.” Courtney’s eyelids flickered, giving a small nod and a murmured ‘yes’ by way of replying. 

Courtney’s first orgasm came as a breathy, strained whimper as Bianca’s hand worked masterfully over her clit, pressing glancingly into her core just to pull her over the brink - clearly doing a far better job of remaining quiet than Bianca had tried to. The second had been louder, more pleading and desperate as those painted red nails raked scratches the colour to match deep down Bianca’s back, from her shoulder-blades down to the base of her spine. She’d barely given her time to catch her breath; hand not even withdrawing from her sodden underwear, still stroking teasingly at her clit. Bianca had had two fingers buried deep within her for that one, pumping steadily and pressing against her g-spot. 

She came once again as Bianca licked her clean, a gasping whisper - breathless, virtually everything she had drawn out of her by Bianca’s touches. Her hair was a mess now, the strains that had broken free from the twisted updo reaching the centre of her back in dishevelled platinum-blonde strains, the feathered headpiece having come mostly unattached, hanging down jauntily over one of her eyes. Makeup smeared, lipstick gone - left mostly between Bianca’s thighs - and mascara feathering out around her eyes with her perspiration. Bianca pulled her into a gentle embrace as she came back up to her level, wrapping one leg around both of Courtney’s as the blonde panted. 

“Fucking hell…” She laughed breathlessly, swiping her stray hair away from her face. “You’re a damn pro.” Bianca shrugged her shoulders, a smug little smile on her face. “Given that I thought you were a total hetero when I first tried to pick you up, you certainly know how to treat a lady.”   
“Practice makes perfect.” Bianca gave a smirk - full aware that she hadn’t had any practice of any sort since the nineties at the absolute latest. But then again, the amount of it she’d managed to fit in during her sorority days (the sheer volume of beersexual bicurious bitches she’d processed back then was almost embarrassing) probably made up for this three times over.  
“Well, what do you say you let me practice on you a little more?” Courtney raised an eyebrow. Bianca pretended to ponder for a moment, before smiling; her laugh a low growl in the back of her throat. 

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly be opposed to it…” 

 

* * *

Bianca perched on the edge of the bed in the silk robe she’d borrowed from the blonde, black cigarette holder held between her plush lips as she took a long drag, extinguishing the match she’d lit it with in her free hand. She placed the matching guilded silver cigarette case and matchbook back in her handbag before laying back, smoke rolling from her lips. Courtney lay on her side, her robe hanging open as she sipped her neat whiskey, watching the white cloud spill from the other woman’s lips and dissipate into the air.

“That’s sexy as hell, but it’s a fucking disgusting habit.” She curled her lip, laying her head down on Bianca’s lap and cuddling into her as she inhaled the smoke again, flicking the ash into the cut glass tray on the nightstand. Their pleasure exploits had gone on for near enough to two hours, pulling one another to heaven and back until they were both utterly spent. They chose to end the night as they’d start it, in a room full of smoke with full glasses and idle conversation. Bianca took a drink of her own whiskey, stroking Courtney’s hair.  
“I know it is. I quit when I was in my twenties, but it’s not exactly gonna kill me now, is it?” 

“Sound logic.” Courtney gave a small nod. “So, how does it work? Y’know, you not actually being fully dead and all?”  
“Well, it works the same as it does with you - I just come and go. It’s not difficult to understand.” Bianca shrugged, placing the cigarette holder between her lips again. It was almost simply because it was befitting of the time period; true, she did feel like a pure pin-up girl, stretched-out and sexy, lounging around like an overfed housecat with this beautiful starlet resting in her lap and the miasma of tobacco smoke hanging in a haze, turning an almost sepia colour in the warm light. It was long dark outside, the moon bright and stars glimmering. It all seemed so eerily real; odd to think that it was just simulated.  
“No, like...Well, do you know what’s going on with you in the real world?”  
“Kind of. For instance, I know for a fact that there’s someone else in the room with me, because I can hear them whining.” Bianca rolled her eyes; full-aware that it was Adore weeping over her as per, but unwilling to mention her offspring to this perfect stranger, afraid it would hurt her chances even though Dorey in the real world was older than either of them were in San Junipero, and completely unable to have any bearing on their relationship. Well, besides...No. Didn’t bear thinking about. Bianca couldn’t be bothered with the angst in that moment. 

The whole thing was incredibly fucking ironic - she hadn’t given two shits when she’d been properly alive, and now all she ever seemed to do was whinge about how sorry she was for it all. Who knew that a botched half-attempt at suicide would be what it took to get her daughter to take notice of her again?  
“Can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”  
“Go ahead.”  
“Do you...y’know, would you stay here? I know it’s only been one night, and it’s a big move and shit. Because I know that would involve you...well, dying. But…” She trailed off, unsure of what to say. Bianca pursed her lips.  
“Out of my hands I’m afraid. Kinda part of the deal with being a vegetable; people don’t ask you about jack shit.” She gave a small shrug, trying to keep the conversation light. “Why do you ask?”   
“Well, I’m the first person that I know who’s died.” Courtney said, breezy and casual just as she always was when she talked about her mortality, or rather lack thereof. “And forever gets pretty fucking lonely without anyone to talk to. I quite like you.” She admitted, coy and avoiding Bianca’s gaze. “It would be nice to properly have someone around that I can talk to and stuff, y’know?”  
“Well, I’ve been as I am for half a decade now, and I can’t see anyone changing that any time soon.” That was some comfort - she was full aware that Adore would never have the heart to unplug her, which had felt like torture for a significant spell because she had nothing to do but lie paralyzed and listen to her bullshitting about how much she missed her, but now that had changed. Now she had something to do besides daydreaming to amuse herself, even if it was only for a few hours a week. “We’ll see each other again.”

“I hope so…” Courtney pulled her arms tighter around Bianca’s waist. “Do you mind me asking how old you are?”  
“A lady never reveals her age,” Bianca turned her nose up, smirking as Courtney grumbled in protest. “Okay, fine. I’m twenty-one. I think my actual body is fifty-something these days? Maybe sixty? It’s hard to keep track.”  
“You fuck damn good for an old lady.” Courtney smirked, giggling as Bianca skiffed her upside the head. “I’m twenty. But I died when I was twenty-five.”  
“Fuck…” Bianca murmured. That was fucking young - that was how old Adore had been when she’d last seen her. Ouch. 

“Oh, don’t go all weepy on me. I know it’s tragic and all that shit, but look how much fun I’m having here. Who cares?”   
“Your parents, probably.”   
“Shut up,” Courtney reached up to silence her with a kiss, draping her arm around her shoulders. “Y’know, I think I really do quite like you, Bianca.” Bianca kissed her back, her lips parting delicately and tongue poking out just enough to taste the other woman; her scent perfume-sweet and musky with sweat.  
“Y’know, I think I could say the same, Courtney.” 

They fell asleep together, in one another’s arms - tired-out and blissfully happy, full of liquor and dreams of what the future could hold for them now that they’d met. Who’d have thought that Bianca would have found amour like this after five years as a sentient corpse - not her, that was for fucking certain. 

Courtney woke up next to rumpled sheets and an empty space, the Fortuny gown gone from the corner of the room, and the handbag contents that Bianca had littered across her nightstand vanished, as though she’d never been there at all. 

 

* * *

 

_ Cause I love my baby and my baby loves me _ __  
_ Don't know nobody as happy as we! _ __  
_ I'm only twenty and she's twenty one, _ _  
_ __ We never worry, we're just having fun!


	2. 1957: Whatever Will Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What better way to enjoy the 1950s than with a milkshake and a romp in the back seat of a Ford De Luxe? Courtney and Bianca think on their past lives as they come to grips with the realisation that the past is set in stone.

_ When I grew up and fell in love. _ _   
_ _ I asked my sweetheart, "What lies ahead? _ _   
_ _ Will we have rainbows _ _   
_ _ Day after day?" _ _   
_ __ Here's what my sweetheart said:

* * *

1957

“Hiya, stranger!” The blonde bounced up to Bianca’s side as she sat alone with her legs folded on the red pleather cushion of the booth. Courtney was wearing a pale pink bomber jacket - pink, always pink - with a blouse underneath of a similar shade; enormous poodle skirt and a thick white plastic belt cinching her waist. Every bit like she’d just stepped out of a community theatre  _ Grease _ production, Bianca mused as she sipped her milkshake. She gave a smile, draping an arm around the other woman as she sat down by her side, shuffling in as close as she could to the other’s side. Bianca relished in the sweet, fruity scent of her teased, curled blonde hair.

“Revisiting the days of your lost youth then, grandma?”   
“I was born in the eighties, go fuck yourself.” She jokingly pushed her, Courtney giggling like a teenager.  “How the hell did you find me?” Bianca spoke through a laugh, Courtney winding a lock of Bianca’s ponytail around her finger, elbows resting on the other’s shoulder.    
“Oh, puh-lease.” She rolled her eyes, giggling. “You’re unbelievably predictable. Speakeasy in the twenties, soda fountain in the fifties. You’re hardly original, B. Are those real?” She gestured to Bianca’s black cat-eye glasses so aggressively she’d have poked Bianca’s eye out if she didn’t have lenses in the way. She nodded a little, rolling her eyes as Courtney stole them off of her face to try them on.    
“Yeah, options were a little limited back in ‘26, and I didn’t think any of them went with my outfit. I’m glad you’re as pretty as I thought you were - you’re better-looking when you aren’t out-of-focus.” 

“ _ Fuck _ , you are blind!” Courtney took them off, one eyelid twitching as she handed them back to Bianca. “I think I’m gonna have a headache for the rest of my life now.”   
“Do you maybe wanna rethink that statement?” Bianca cleaned her specs off on the edge of her shirt before putting them back on. 

“Okay, rest of my death then, if we’re gonna be picky. How’ve you been? I haven’t seen you in ages!”   
“A week. You haven’t seen me in a week.”   
“Well, it  _ feels _ like forever.” Courtney had both arms around Bianca now, head leaning on her shoulder. 

“Well, it’s been boring - I’ll give you that.” Bianca rolled her eyes. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot, actually. Mostly about fucking you. But also about you generally.”   
“I’m flattered,” Courtney grinned, folding her legs. “You look great - your outfit is adorable.”   
“Just something I threw on - I didn’t want to waste valuable time fucking around with clothes when I could have been looking for you.” Bianca looked down at herself - white and grey striped shirt and black slacks, a red scarf tying her dark hair into a curled ponytail; her bangs done up in victory rolls. The ability to alter hair length was something she was enjoying; she’d always wanted to see herself with short hair, but Justin had never been onside with her chopping her own. Turns out she liked it, but not enough to keep it. She could leave that in the 1920s for now. 

“Well, it’s adorable. Suits you.”    
“Same to you - you look so fucking sweet.” Bianca smirked, leaning in to kiss Courtney’s cheek, before playfully wiping the red lipstick she left behind away with her thumb. “It’s kind of gross, actually. I’m feeling a little nauseous.”   
“Don’t be so bloody rude,” Courtney said, a bright smile on her face as she returned the kiss to Bianca’s lips, cupping her face in one hand. “Mmh, you taste super-nice too - what’s that?” She gestured to the glass in front of the brunette.   
“Strawberry milkshake.”   
“Ooh, gimme.” She’d stolen the glass before Bianca could open her mouth to object, bringing her head back up from taking a drink to reveal whipped cream on the end of her nose.    
“Your manners are impeccable.” Bianca spoke with a deadpan expression and a flat tone to her voice, faux-disappointment. Courtney gave a pert little smirk, before trying to lick the cream off of her own nose in a distinctly unsexy way.    
“I know.” 

“Arrogant bastard,” Bianca‘s lip curled contemptuously before the expression melted to a smirk, draping an arm around Courtney’s waist; cupping her rear with one hand. Courtney raised an eyebrow, feigning being scandalised as she nestled in closer to the brunette.    
“So, I’m dying to know - what in the hell are you doing wasting your night in here?” Courtney turned to her, the lace of her underskirt rustling against Bianca’s thigh. “I mean for Christ’s sake, we aren’t thirteen, and there’s  _ much _ better things to do.”   
“Is that so? Like what?” 

“Come on - lemme show you.” And it was once again that Bianca found herself being dragged out by the wrist under the blonde’s command; entirely unprotesting nevertheless. 

* * *

 

The heat from their bodies fogged up both Bianca’s glasses and the car windows as Courtney panted and writhed beneath Bianca’s touch; the woman naked from the waist up, her preened hair in disarray as she pinned Courtney down between her thighs. She used one hand to cup Courtney’s face as she kissed her, fervent and wet and passionate, as the other stroked teasing and delicate over Courtney’s breast through her lacy bra. Her skirts were tossed up around her waist, her nylons laddered down the shin, having been caught by the heel of Bianca’s shoe. She had melted beneath B’s touch as she felt her hips grinding against her own, utterly on cloud nine as one hand traced lines up and down Bianca’s back, following the indent of her spine down to the small of her back and then up again to her shoulders. The other clawed at her hair, pulling and making the brunette moan. They were sprawled out in the back seat, Bianca’s shirt having been thrown onto the dashboard as it was removed; Courtney’s on the floor around the driver’s seat. The car’s radio filled the air with a tinny, quiet hum of music - some kind of upbeat boogie shit which was about a mile off of fitting the scene, but neither of them particularly wanted to stop for as long as it would take to turn it off. They were the only car parked in the dusty beachside lot, just out of sight of San Junipero’s neon signs and noise and clamour. God, this was just fucking perfect. 

“I haven’t done this in about forty years.” Bianca said airily between kisses, the blonde giving a purring laugh, before pulling her back in with a sort of aggressive force, lips kiss-swollen and crashing against her own. 

Courtney’s breath was hot against Bianca’s face, and her body warm and damp with sweat underneath her as she grabbed at her with a sort of fervent passion, barely giving her enough space to breathe or move as her hands grabbed for her ass and tits, directionless and desperate all at once. Fully living the fantasy, it seemed - making out in the back seat of a Ford De Luxe, parked out in the sticks; a gorgeous blonde in a swing skirt sucking scarlet love-bites into her neck and paradise just about visible by the dashboard light. 

The light of another car driving past illuminated the De Luxe’s interior, and Courtney jumped at this - bolting up into a seated position, causing Bianca to hit her head on the roof before she fell sideways and landed in a screaming mess in the footwell of the car.    
“Fuck! What was that?” Bianca half-laughed, the noise subsiding into a low groan of pain. “Now I remember why I haven’t done this in about forty fucking years.”

“Sorry, I got startled.” Courtney smiled awkwardly, offering Bianca a hand and helping her back into the seat before getting up and diving head-first into the front seat, legs sticking up in the air as Bianca placed a hand to the bruise she could already feel forming on the top of her head. She threw her own blouse back in Bianca’s direction, the brunette’s closely following before she gracelessly shuffled back onto the seat herself, redressing with a weird sort of haste.   
  
“Okay, I know this was my idea but I’ve been so fucking jumpy about anyone seeing us that I can’t focus.” Courtney admitted bashfully as Bianca rubbed her head, letting down what of her hair had remained in her ponytail. “This feels way too much like public sex, and I don’t think that’s necessarily my cup of tea…”    
“That might have something to do with the fact that it’s public sex.” Bianca gave a small laugh. “You could have just said, without giving me a fucking concussion.”    
“Sorry.” She said again, blushing as she gave a wan smile. Bianca placed an arm around her, pulling her closer as she fastened her blouse. Bianca’s own was now on too, but hanging open, leaving her bra on show.    
“You didn’t seem terribly with it.” Bianca noted. “Look, Court - you know we can just talk without you molesting me first, right?” Bianca turned to her, taking her hand. “I wanna fuck you, sure, but I also wanna know more about you. So tell me what’s up. I mean, I guess I’m a little starved of human interaction these days besides doctors.” And Adore. But she chose to leave that minor detail out - another problem for another conversation. 

“You and me both,” she said, a small sigh escaping her - breathy and morose. “I mean, I know I get out a lot more than you do, but I don’t really talk to people much. Just dance with them and screw them. It’s fun, on paper. But after a while it all starts to feel a little meaningless, you know?” She bit her lip. “I know it’s fucking sad, but it’s like I’m just hanging around hoping that one of my parents or my friends is gonna snuff it sometime soon so that I can have a meaningful fucking conversation for once.” She turned to Bianca. “Is that bad?” The brunette shook her head, one thumb stroking over the back of the hand that she was holding. Courtney gripped her tighter as she fought away the tears that had already turned her eyes glassy. “My best mate, Vanity - she was at the same party as I was that night, and I’m sure she took the same dodgy eccies that I did. I wandered about for weeks when I first got here, looking for her like a lost fucking puppy - hoping the same thing had happened to her because I was so damn lonely I didn’t know what to do with myself. I mean - damn, I love it here. But at the same time, this place had me wishing the girl who’d been my best friend since fucking kindergarten dead because I missed her. That’s enough to make anyone feel shit about themself.” She shrugged a little, wiping her eyes with the heel of her hand. “It’s hard not to think about it. About my parents and my sister and my friends or whatever. That they’re stuck knowing that I wound up in the ground at twenty-five because of my shitty impulse control. I probably upset a lot of fucking people, being dead. And I just feel like a waste of a life.”

Bianca looked at her, raising her hand to gently wipe away the tears that rolled down Courtney’s cheek; tender and gentle, almost motherly. She sniffed, smiling again. “That’s crap - why do you think that?”    
“Well, I never did anything with my life, did I? I graduated college, then spent a few years shagging my way around Sydney and singing on bars, drinking myself half to death, and then look what happened. Not exactly productive.” She laughed somewhat incredulously, rolling her eyes. “When I was a kid, I always said I was gonna be Australia’s youngest female Prime Minister. Clearly that never fucking happened. Me and Vannie always joked about how we were gonna be gross, haggard, boozed-up old biddies together, and then I never wound up seeing middle age, forget about growing old. Hell, I didn’t even see thirty.” 

“Okay, that’s not symptomatic of a wasted life. Besides.” Bianca shrugged a little, pulling Courtney into a proper embrace, the blonde with her feet on the seat and head leaning on Bianca’s chest. “Middle age ain’t that great - you got the best days of your life and then cashed out and called it quits. That’s what I’d have done if I’d known.”   
Courtney mumbled something. “Well, I know, but...well, it would have been nice to find that out for myself. Do that whole ten-years-down-the-line mid-life existential crisis ‘oh my god I’ve got a husband and three kids and half my life is over’ thing.”   
Bianca had to resist laughing at this. God, she was still a wizened old bitch at heart even now, wasn’t she? “It’s not that great. And trust me, one is enough.”   
“How would you know?” Courtney looked at her quizzically before putting two and two together. “You got kids?” 

Bianca sighed, unsure of how she was going to worm her way out of this one. N going back now, she supposed as she nodded. “A daughter - Adore.” She fished in the purse she’d left lying on the floor for her wallet; producing a photo of the woman as she’d last seen her - purple-haired, grinning, and wall-eyed in a goofy selfie with Bianca by her side.    
“Oh, she’s cute.” Courtney smiled. “She kinda looks like someone I’d have slept with back in the day.”    
Bianca shot her a look that could have turned her to stone. “Hey, watch it - she’s still my daughter!”   
“I only say that because she bears so much resemblance to her mom. And you didn’t age half-badly in the real world either.” She looked at the photo, smiling - taking it in her hands.     
“There’s more fillers in me there than I really want to admit to - I’m enjoying being able to move my eyebrows again here.” She gave a small laugh that eventually died into silence between the two women, sat an awkward few inches apart. 

  
“Do you miss her?” The question was stark, coming out of nowhere - Courtney looking dead ahead of her with a blank face, morose.    
“I can’t seem to fucking get rid of her in the real world. She’s always there, whining and crying about whatever.” Bianca huffed a sigh, laughing through her nose. “I mean yeah, of course I do. She’s my kid. But at the same time...I can’t help but be a little pissy with her about a few things. It’s strange.” She turned to Courtney. “You know, you were probably onto something about how you being dead is hugely inconvenient to your mom and dad. I don’t know what I would have done if she’d outlived me. She drove me fucking nuts, sure. But still.” She gave a tiny shrug, pulling her knees up to her chest and pushing her glasses onto the top of her head to dab away the tears that had formed at the corners of her eyes. “I missed her like fuck all the time when she was away doing her own thing - once she left home and it was just me and Justin, that was hard enough, and then he passed a few years later, and it…” She trailed off, growing emotional despite herself and hating it. 

“Justin? Your husband?”

She nodded. “Thirty-something years. I just woke up one morning and...well, he was lying next to me, dead. That was that - no warning. No nothing. He had an aneurysm in his sleep or something, and snuffed it. He was too far-gone to get put on the system here when I found him. And then Adore came home for the funeral and then fucked off again, and I couldn’t handle the constant fucking loneliness, it drove me nuts.” She pursed her lips. “I just...suddenly, it felt like I had no-one, and it was the biggest fucking reality check. There’s nothing more demoralising than realising out of nowhere that you’re a middle-aged widow with no friends, no social life, a kid that doesn’t give a fuck about your wellbeing despite it all because she’s too caught up living her own life, and nobody for company besides a couple of half-senile chihuahuas.” She breathed out in a wavering sigh, wringing her hands - and hearing the next admission in her own voice, without her really recalling giving consent for it being said. “I think Adore kinda blames herself a bit for my accident. Which is why she’s around me more nowadays than she ever was back then.”

“Accident?” Courtney looked at her. “B, are you sure it was-”

“Yeah, I know, I know.” She looked the blonde in the eyes as the other woman gently took her hands, resting her head on her shoulder; Bianca upright and stiff as a board, scarcely showing any emotion at all besides the tears that leaked involuntarily from her eyes. “It was definitely an accident, okay? I hit a kerb, came off the road. That bit wasn’t planned. And there was a wall in front of me, and I  _ could _ have swerved and avoided it, and  _ maybe _ come out of it in a better state, but for some reason, I...didn’t. It wasn’t premeditated, at all. I wasn’t trying to die. But I figured...well, there was a chance to just get out of it all, avoid fading away like I was scared to, all that shit. So I took it, and it backfired. Big whoop.” She was giving an almost macabre smile as she spoke now, her body trembling. “It’s just fucking ironic, isn’t it? That Dorey seems to care more now than she ever did when I was properly there. Lady Luck thinks she’s such a fucking artist.” 

Bianca felt the warmth of Courtney’s body press against her, her weight shifting as Courtney embraced her, stroking her hair. “Sssh, babe. It’s okay. You’ll be okay. See, one day she’s gonna kick the bucket too, and then the two of you are gonna be back together no problem at all - and you’re a youngun now anyway, so you can just go out drinking together and have little girls’ nights without her being embarrassed to hang out with you or whatever. You’ll be ‘right.” Bianca gave a weak smile, leaning against Courtney as she continued on in her attempt to stifle her tears. 

She knew that was all bullshit. Hell, she practically knew that the thought of winding up in San Junipero full-time was a long shot. Adore thought it was all morbid bullshit - and she was so fucking hung up on this idea that Bianca could simply never be happy without her spouse. Clearly that wasn’t true, but she wasn’t to know that. It pained Bianca in every part of her body, and it prevented her from fully giving herself over to the enjoyment that the city had to behold. She hated it - she hated that Adore had full control over her life and what happened in it, or even if it was allowed to continue at all, when she had had to call and remind the girl to take regular showers until she was twenty-four. 

She felt Courtney’s hands working up her shirt, fastening her buttons before grasping her wrist and pulling her out of the vehicle in her bare feet - Bianca too startled to argue as Courtney embraced her from standing, the cool wind of the night air off of the sea whipping at their hair and biting knife-sharp into the bare flesh of their arms. “Come on - dry your eyes for a sec, Bianca - I’ve got something to show you.” 

The two tripped and stumbled as they tried to navigate over the dunes onto the beach in their bare feet - Bianca soon giving weak laughs in response to Courtney falling on her ass, and clinging to the blonde for dear life as she risked slipping herself. The noise of the sea was cathartic and steady, cut through with the vague bassy hum of the noise from the clubs and bars miles away. 

Courtney held her hand, walking with her down the beach, arms swinging nonchalantly as they shared an amicable silence, a warmth between their bodies. They eventually came to a point, and Courtney sat down on the sand with her feet sitting just in the path of the tide, water lapping over her bare toes as Bianca took a seat beside her, legs crossed and arms folded to protect herself from the wind. Courtney pulled an arm around her, holding her close. 

“I always think it’s crazy how pretty the stars are here. I mean, for it all not being entirely real.” She turned to Bianca with a ghost of a smile on her lips. “When I was little, I was always scared shitless to die because I just couldn’t get my head around how heaven could possibly exist. So I just assumed it wasn’t real, and grew up terrified. But now that I’m here, I’ve realised that maybe heaven does exist a little, after all - it’s just man-made. The real world is crap - you don’t need to worry about it here. Forget it. Here, life’s just...beautiful.”   
“Even the orchestra is beautiful,” Bianca muttered under her breath, the joke amusing her although it fell on deaf ears for Court. 

“Bianca...You can stop worrying. It’s all gonna be okay. And I know it sucks that you ended up like this, but there’s nothing you can do, so...Well, you’re as well to enjoy it now you’re here, huh? And I’m glad that you’re here.”    
“I’m glad that I found you - that you found me.” Bianca’s smile was scarcely there, but her words were less flat - clearly a tad happier. She was a chronic worrier by nature, so all she could really do was try and forget for a moment or two. Not everything had to be the end of the world. 

“Even if it isn’t okay in the end - even if it doesn’t work out alright like it’s supposed to in shitty love stories, it’s okay now. We’re okay. And we’ll always have this.” 

Bianca smiled, placing one hand tenderly on Courtney’s cheek to tilt her face towards her own; placing a small, delicate kiss on those perfect rosebud lips which then grew into something deeper as Courtney took her hand and kissed back harder - scarcely any distance between their bodies at all. They were immune to the cold, immune to the noise and the wind and the looming uncertainty of tomorrow - simply there. Sharing the embrace and the fire that nobody else could ever take from them. Happy. 

* * *

_ Que sera, sera,  
_ _ Whatever will be, will be;  
_ _ The future's not ours to see.  
_ _ Que sera, sera,  
_ __ What will be, will be.


	3. 2039: Slipping Through My Fingers

_Barely awake, I let precious time go by_   
_Then when she's gone, there's that odd melancholy feeling_   
_And a sense of guilt I can't deny_   
_What happened to the wonderful adventures?_   
_The places I had planned for us to go?_   
_Well, some of that we did, but most we didn't  
And why, I just don't know._

* * *

 

Adore sat cross-legged on the plastic chair that almost felt at this point like a second home, legs folded as she snapped her gum, staring blank and glassy-eyed at the wall facing her. She didn’t want to know how much of her life exactly she’d spent staring at that fucking wall. But then - looking at the wall was a lot easier than looking at her mom, so maybe it was the lesser of two evils when she was given the choice. She knew that room probably better than she knew the back of her own hand, and she hated it.

In that room - in that god-forsaken fucking room, Adore had watched the idiotic, hedonistic kid that she’d once been die, and day by day she saw the face of her adult self hardening into something terrible. She remembered the days when all she’d had to worry about were spray tans and hair dye, and not catching anything from skeevy nightclub toilets or her flavour-of-the-month boyfriend, with a sort of aching grief for their simplicity. Because nowadays it was all too fucking complicated.

Too complicated both logistically, and for her conscience. Because in the space between herself and her mother that neither of them could bridge, there was a sort of knowing. Adore blamed herself, and Bianca blamed her. There hadn’t been a note or anything - there was no hard proof, no real signs besides the ones that existed within her own mind. But they both knew. And maybe that was part of what terrified her about San Junipero; the opportunities it would present for her mom to tell her exactly what she thought of her.

She knew deep down it was because of her; she’d cared too little, not called enough. All the usual shit. And even if it had meant burying both of her parents in the space of a year, Adore would almost be happier if she’d just...died. Because that way she wouldn’t have been stuck with the unyielding stress and the dent in her conscience that had plagued her for the last five years, leaving her looking easily half a decade older than her current thirty years.

She didn’t know why she still bothered to come. She didn’t do anything. Didn’t talk, didn’t touch her. It was too creepy - everything about her screamed ‘dead’ besides the staccato cardiogram blip that punctuated every visit, and that hint of warmth that lingered to her skin despite everything. She just looked and felt for all the world like a fresh corpse. And wouldn’t that just be the sickest irony in the world? The daughter who’d practically killed her mom by not talking to her enough sitting and talking to what was for all intents and purposes said mother’s barely-sentient dead body. It was sick, and Adore hated it. And yet she hated the thought of permanently being without her even more - calling it after all these years of insisting that she wouldn’t, praying for a fucking sign.

It was like a fucking never-ending funeral home viewing with more machinery; grossly sterile and white and miserable. The whole place smelled bitingly of bleach and death, and she hated it. She hated spending so much time here - and yet there she was at the same conclusion, she hated the alternative twice as much.

They’d had ‘the talk’ far too many times - she and the doctors. That keeping her around was inhumane, unfair on her; expensive and in the long run, not worth it. She was never coming back. Even if she did, she wouldn’t truly be herself - she wouldn’t be the Bianca that Adore loved. But even so, she couldn’t bring herself to be the one to make the call. It made her feel ill - it was terrifying.

She clung with both shabbily-manicured hands to the notion that someday some miracle would occur. That she’d wake up miraculously alright one day, and everything would be fucking normal again after this five-year interim of crazy. But she knew that wasn’t possible. She knew that the crash had broken her mom’s back, and damaged her brain; that she wouldn’t be able to walk or speak or maybe even think properly if she were to come back. She knew her mom well enough to know that shed hate the theft of her independence that would come with this. And she knew that she would far rather be dead than have to try and live like this; a newborn in the body of a grown woman, and a struggling one at that. It wasn’t fair on her in the slightest. She didn’t know why she bothered - why she trailed herself here so often and sat by the bed when she knew that Bianca was only kind-of alive with piss-all hope of ever coming back to her.

And yet...now that San Junipero has become a part of her world, there was something about that which scared the shit out of her even more. She’d brushed it off as morbid nonsense - kicked and screamed for years about not having anything to do with it. And now it seemed as though control was being taken from her. Because her mother’s physicians had insisted upon her being put on the system on a temporary basis, almost as though to rub it in Adore’s face that there was another option besides this. Almost as if to say ‘look how cruel you’re being, keeping her here - when if you let her go, she could be happy.’ And almost as though to try and gradually steal control of the situation away from her. Telling her indirectly what she knew - that, even if she was out of her teens by a good ten years, that she was just a stupid kid who didn’t know what she was doing, and didn’t have the maturity or the brains to be able to take control like the law said she was meant to.

Fuck them. Why did she have to be a fucking only child? Why did she have to go this alone? In an ideal world, she’d have somebody with her telling her what was right; giving her instructions. A sort of cartoon angel on her shoulder. And yet when she tried to visualise it, it always spoke in Bianca’s voice; with her same brusque, profane turns of phrase, with her same dimpled smile on its face. It just brought revulsion and sadness rather than any sort of consolation - and always wound up telling her off for being an idiot, for screwing up like she did in the first place.

That was the thing - it was so out of character. Of course, Bianca had never shied away from calling a cunt a cunt in her lifetime; unless of course she was talking about her daughter. She knew good and goddamn well that if she did do what they kept recommending - if she did go into SJ and actually talk to her, then things wouldn’t be at all like the nightmare she’d envisaged. But every time she thought about it, and tried to picture her mom as she had been, every time the curtain fell down and the glass shattered and she couldn’t continue the fantasy without her mother turning into some kind of raging nightmare she-devil and tell her what she couldn’t bare to hear straight from her own lips. That she had in effect killed her. It had been imagined and reimagined so many times that it had turned into something so awful that the mere thought alone terrified her too much to go near it.

“Ms Del Rio-Johnson?” Adore barely looked up at the voice; simply rolling her eyes at the use of her stupid surname. She wasn’t sure which part of it made her stomach twist more; when her dad had died, she’d dropped the Johnson for about as long as her mom had stuck around for after the fact. But nowadays Del Rio made her wince twice as much as that of her departed father. At least she didn’t have a guilt complex the size of fucking Venus surrounding his death. Her stage surname had become ‘Delano’ as a half-joke when she’d started out as a club singer a few years ago, and she’d toyed with changing it to be as such legally, but then never could quite bring herself to commit fully to erasing the identity of her parents. Not when her mom wasn’t actually dead yet. Close, yeah. But not dead.

The doctor that had entered the room was one of the ones she hated the least, but that still didn’t mean that she’d bothered to commit her name to memory. She pursed her lips, running a hand through her dark hair before placing her glasses atop her head and standing a few feet behind Adore. Adore stood up to face her, feeling her stomach sink at the thought of talking to her. Whatever this conversation was, nothing about it was going to be enjoyable. She stood hunched like a surly teenager, her arms folded and back slouched; face drawn and nervous.

“Ms Del-”

“God’s sake, just call me Adore.” She muttered, barely opening her mouth to talk as she chipped the black polish off of her thumbnail with her index finger, twitchy and agitated.

“Okay, sorry - Adore.” She looked somewhat taken aback by this, the name sounding odd in her voice. “We’ve, uh…” She paused, glancing nearsightedly between her notes and Adore before speaking again, scratching the back of her head. Her scrubs - garishly bright blue - were about the only dart of colour in the awful, sterile, pale room. “We’ve made a few developments regarding the care of your mother that I kind of need to talk through with you as her next of kin, if that’s okay?” She nodded a little, chewing at her lip. “So, you know we’ve had her being trialled on the San Junipero program, yes?” She nodded again, eyes downturned and moody. “Well, since then, we’ve noted a few changes to her condition. I…”

The other woman continuted talking, the med-school shitspeak washing over Adore’s head entirely as she glanced uneasily at Bianca’s still body on the bed. Looking at her for any sustained duration of time was unbelievably fucking hard. Intubated and covered in wires - even if Adore did wish to have any kind of physical contact with her, she’d probably struggle to get near her at all. Her eyes hung luridly half-shut, not aiding the corpse facade; brown irises just visible, staring blindly out at her grotesquely blank surroundings. Her mouth hung ajar with tubing down her throat, her hair hanging limp and lank at either side of her face. Adore hadn’t insisted on much with her, but she’d insisted upon keeping her hair long. Practicality be fucked, she wouldn’t be her without it. Even if she wasn’t coming back, she’d at least want to look presentable at her own funeral. Of course, a root touch-up would probably be in order but still. Adore caught herself thinking about it and stopped herself, feeling bile rise to the back of her throat.

“...And we’ve noted a very slight increase in brain activity, so-”  
“So she could come back? She might wake up?” The words to Adore’s uneducated self simply rung with hope; surely that was good, right? Shit - she’d thought until recently that brain death just came with the territory of being a vegetable. The doctor pursed her lips.

“Not exactly.” Her voice was almost grating; somehow managing to be both high-pitched and gravelly at once. “I...Adore, how much exactly have you been told about your mom’s prognosis?”  
“Not much.” She replied simply.   
“I...uh, Adore - she’s had a GCS of three since she arrived here. That’s virtually the equivalent to death; the only thing that really qualifies her as actually being alive is the fact that her heart beats without intervention, and that we can observe a few minor areas of brain function.”  
  
“But like...that means her brain still works, right? She’s still there?”   
“She’s vaguely aware of other people being present around her - if you spoke to her, she’d hear it, even if she maybe wouldn’t fully understand -  but that’s about the extent of it.” She sighed. “The longer a person is in a deep coma, the less likely they are to ever come out of it. We tell this to people who have relatives who’ve been in a vegetative state like this for over a few weeks. Unfortunately all we’re doing now is artificially prolonging her life in the hope of some breakthrough in the future, and that’s not fair on you or her.” She sat down, urging Adore to do the same thing, and resting a short-nailed, neatly-manicured hand atop hers. “Miss, the chances of her waking up are so unbelievably slim they’re not worth noting - and even if she did, she’d have no quality of life. You know this.”

“If this is turning into another lecture about pulling her plug, you can save it. I can’t do that to her. It isn’t fair.” She pulled her hand away, folding her arms. The doctor sighed defeatedly.  
“Adore, there are other options. ‘Pulling the plug’ as you put it doesn’t necessarily have to be killing her for good. We’ve been monitoring her progres in San Junipero and she appears happy; she’s socialising, fitting in well. She seems to enjoy it. As I see it, there are two possible outcomes to her life continuing. The first is if by some miracle she pulls through this, and comes around again - in which scenario she would be entirely dependent on others and have the care needs of an infant, and similar cognitive abilities. Or if she continues to live in San Junipero, where she’s younger, happier, and more capable of living to the fullest. If you ask me-”   
“Well, I’m not fucking asking you!” Adore blurted, her head bowed as she bit back tears. “Look, she’s my mom. I know her. The only place she’s ever gonna be actually happy is here, with her family. With me. And I want to be  part of her life if she’s going to get one. I…” She broke off, tears falling from behind a hand. The doctor put a consoling hand on the woman’s tattooed bicep, grimacing.   
“You can ask her how she feels yourself, rather than just guessing - we can hook you up, you can go talk to her-”   
“No.” Adore replied flatly, scrubbing at her eyes with the heel of her hand. She didn’t want to admit to why, but she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. The black-haired woman pursed her lips, placing her glasses back on the end of her nose and resting her pointed chin on her hand.

“Adore, I’m sorry. I know it’s not a comfortable situation to be in, at all.” She sighed. “Look, I lost my mom young too, and I know that it sucks. And if I was in your position I wouldn’t want to be hearing this either, but...The way I see it now, I would be thinking hard about whether or not keeping her around for much longer is fair on her.” She dabbed at her own eyes from behind the lenses of her specs. “And as a medical professional I would be reluctant to continue her care once it’s gotten to the point where we know that it’s simply for nothing - which is what we’re doing now. I would advise in favour of letting her pass onto San Junipero, but if you don’t...either way. Everybody’s time has to come sooner or later.”  
“I can’t do this to her…” Adore murmured hopelessly, wringing her hands. The other woman stood up, placing a hand on her shoulder and squeezing it lightly, consoling and gentle.

“Listen, Adore. I say get her opinion. And I say consider it. There’s euthanasia, to put it plainly; which is quicker and more humane for her. Or we...Or we just sign a Do Not Resuscitate order and then wait and see if she passes naturally in time. But you have to do something; and it has to be done soon.”

She left almost as quietly as she had entered, leaving Adore hunched by the bedside with tears and black mascara streaks dribbling down her cheeks. Do something...She couldn’t face it. And yet she knew. She knew that her mom had been artificially pulled back from the brink of heart attacks and brain hemorrhages and god knows what the fuck else because she had told them not to let her die. It was her fault - it was her fault that things were this hard, that her mom was possibly suffering because of her selfishness and stupidity.

Adore felt herself doubled over with guilt; her chest heaving as though she was going to throw up. This wasn’t okay. She shouldn’t have to sign her mom’s execution order. But then...if she didn’t, who would? She couldn’t just keep her there forever, and in the back of her mind she knew this even if she didn’t want to admit to it. She’d been punched in the fucking face by reality all of a sudden, and it terrified her.

Her body trembling, she reached her hand out to grasp one of Bianca’s; scarcely touching her eerily chill fingers before she flinched away. Fuck. SHe still couldn’t bear it  -all this time, and she still couldn’t even bare to touch her. Adore curled into a ball on that horrendous rigid plastic chair, tears running down in floods, as though she had never cried before

Why did it have to be like this?

* * *

  
_Slipping through my fingers all the time_   
_I try to capture every minute_   
_The feeling in it._   
_Slipping through my fingers all the time_   
_Do I really see what's in her mind?_   
_Each time I think I'm close to knowing_   
_She keeps on going  
Slipping through my fingers all the time._


	4. 1980: Xanadu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The saga of time-jumping shenanigans continues into 1980, and takes the two into a roller disco. Bianca spots a familiar face, and Courtney has to pee at the most inopportune moments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is…a lot. I’m putting another tissue requirement warning on this, but thankfully it’s not all bummer like last time. Thanks very much to Jania for some of the idea for this chapter. I don’t believe that where I went was exactly what she had in mind, but it was inspiration nevertheless. Also, the whole rollerskating drama conflama is 100% canon, and I know this from a) watching that clip of baby Bianca that I reference and b) Courtney rolling right off the stage when I saw her in Girl From Oz last summer. Enjoy, gals!

_A place where nobody dared to go,_   
_The love that we came to know,_   
_They call it Xanadu._   
_And now, open your eyes and see_   
_What we have made is real,_   
_We are in Xanadu._

  
_A million lights are dancing, and there you are, a shooting star._   
_An everlasting look, and you’re here with me, eternally._

* * *

1980

“Shit- fuck- slow down! Bianca!”  
  
“Maybe if you take a second to stop screaming, and get your claws out of my arm, you might find this a little easier.” Bianca could barely keep upright herself from laughing; arm looped through Courtney’s as they skated a tentative circle around the rink, lights flashing garishly red-blue-green in poor time to the Donna Summer thumping over the speakers - Courtney stiff at the knees and tense as a board, her jaw clenched with nerves. “Loosen up, buttercup - it’s fine.”

“I don’t like it.” She said pointedly, biting her lip as they turned a corner, swerving away from another couple. Figures - if Bianca could walk on grates in high heels then surely having wheels tied to her feet was hardly about to be a hindrance to her. This was the most recent of their several time-jumping escapades, having spent most of the Summer of Love too stoned to move, and hopping this direction and that every time they felt like a change of genre. Courtney had become more and more comfortable with Bianca, although she had never thought it possible - the brunette’s presence feeling like…home. “And I hate how fucking confident you are - as if your ego needed the boost. How are you so good at this?”

“Practice I guess. You Gen Z muppets were too spoiled with technology, we had to amuse ourselves by going outside and shit.”

“Last I checked, you were all smug about being a nineties baby!” Courtney elbowed her. “It’s not like you were living in a cave in the fucking Stone Age, making dollies out of sticks and animal turds, was it?”

“If you wanna be a smartass, I’ll just let you go and you can fend for yourself.”

“No!” Courtney half-shrieked, before going arse over tit on her skates nonetheless and landing in a sprawled heap on the ground.

Bianca stooped over to help her back to her feet; Courtney grasping her arm in a Roman handshake gratefully, muttering her thanks as she stood up again with a little tripping and stumbling, almost pulling Bianca over with her instead. She dusted off the pastel pink polyester of her bardot-necked Xanadu dress, pulling up her leg-warmers and tossing her hair over her shoulder; giving an airy smile and trying to make it seem as though she was still in some way composed despite the friction burn on her knee weeping blood through the ladder in her tights. Bianca watched her with a distracted smile on her face; never did she realise that disgusting cheap fabric and a Farrah Fawcett blowout would look good on anybody, but Courtney still found her miraculous ways to make it work. The blonde spotted that she was being observed and giggled playfully; grabbing Bianca’s shoulder and pulling herself forward into the brunette’s embrace, so that there was no distance at all between their bodies. Resting her elbows on Bianca’s shoulders, she kissed her deeply and shamelessly in the middle of the room, grinning as she broke away despite Bianca’s pink cheeks and nervous glances around, gauging others’ reactions.

“Nobody’s bothered about us, B. Chillax.”

Bianca gave a somewhat shy smile, her lips just parted to reveal her pearly teeth. “I know. Still, I know I judge the fuck outta people for making out in public, so I just assume that everybody else does the same.” She shrugged a little, taking Courtney’s hand and skating off once again.

“Let me ask again - how can you do this so damn well?”

“This is nothing - I can skate backwards whilst playing Yankee Doodle Dandy on a fucking accordion,” Bianca smirked, laughing.

“How in the _hell_ do you even know that that’s a skill you have?”

She shrugged. “I dunno. I did it for a talent show in high school once. All the other kids were like, doing poncy spoken word and cheesy little girl group numbers trying to be Destiny’s Child. I got laughed off the goddamn stage.”

“I mean, it begs asking why the hell you did it in the first place.”

“Because my friend Bunny bet me $20 that I couldn’t.” Courtney laughed at this. “First thing you gotta know about me, Court - everything I’ve ever done in my life, I’ve done purely out of spite.”

“You seem like the type.” Courtney smirked, interlocking her fingers with Bianca’s and placing a soft kiss on the other woman’s cheek; Bianca blushing, giggling like a teenager at the tiny affection as she put an arm around Courtney’s waist. “Hey B, do me a favour and pull me over to the exit, I have to go pee.”

“You’re like a goddamn toddler.” Bianca grinned, holding her tight as she skated towards the gate; Courtney gripping her like a monkey, knees braced as Bianca dragged her along an inch or two behind her. “I’d think that at twenty years of age you wouldn’t need somebody else to take you to the bathroom, but here you are proving me wrong.”

“Oh, leave me alone.” Courtney scoffed, poking her tongue out at Bianca as she brushed her coiffed bangs back from her face. “I don’t understand what makes you think you have the right to critique me on anything, given what you decided to come out in. You look like a crappy Cher tribute act.” She said as she flicked at Bianca’s poker-straight bangs, the brunette glaring at her over the top of her metal-framed glasses.

Bianca, whose dark hair was straightened down her back, falling just to the band of her high-waisted flares, curled her lip at this, trying to force herself not to laugh and failing dismally. “I could just let go of you-”

_“No!”_

“Fucking five-year old.” Bianca grinned, Courtney fighting her skates off as she stepped off of the rink, picking them up by the laces and walking off in the direction of the bathroom, pushing through the crowds shoulders-first as Bianca leaned against the wall, giving her a tiny wave; pushing her glasses onto the top of her head to rub at her eyes, watching Courtney disappear. Fucking inconvenient. She sighed a little. Honestly, making the most of every goddamn moment she had with Courtney now was all that she could possibly want. She’d heard…things. Unsure of whether or not she was imagining them, and damned sure that she didn’t want to know - she’d been battling the notion that her days were numbered since she first put in an appearance in San Junipero, and yet now that fear was mounting to a fever pitch; something stirring and swelling in the pit of her stomach, getting harder and harder to push to the back of her mind with the coming and going of each visit. And so being there and spending so much as a second without the blonde Aussie by her side was almost agony in and of itself. She…well, she didn’t exactly want to say that she loved her. But her nights would be longer and her days duller without her to think about; being able to see her gave her meaningless, dull existence something slightly reminiscent of purpose once again.

She adjusted her glasses, staring at the numberless faces tottering this way and that, tying on rollerskates and chatting and laughing. That was one thing that she had always loved about this place. People truly had no troubles here, or at least if they did then they were good at hiding them. It was always so jovial; so airy and blissfully happy. One almost absorbed it through osmosis just by being there - it was like a chemical in the air or some shit like that. She rolled her shoulders back, looking with glazed eyes out onto the crowd, paying no particular attention to anything. And then she felt her heart drop down to the floor; her jaw hanging slack of its own accord, breath catching in her throat in a wavering gasp.

Standing in the middle of it all, looking dazed and lost, was…Adore. She sure as hell looked different, but Bianca was just as damn sure that it was her, and it made her heart skip an anxious beat. Dorey’s face was drawn and tense; her soft, dark eyes darting between faces without direction - frantically searching, though seemingly not knowing exactly what for. She must have been about thirty; her face had aged, Bianca noticed with pang of sadness, still acutely aware of her heart pounding fit to explode in her chest. She looked stress-worn and tired and drained - practically lifeless, really; the vivaciousness and joie de vivre that had once been embodied by her just…gone. In that moment, Bianca could practically feel the knife in her chest. Her internal monologue turned against her once again, the words in that disembodied voice that seemed to hate her bitter and venomous and cutting. She’s barely an adult, she shouldn’t be dealing with this shit. _You did this to her. You pussied out of being alive, and you fucking did this to her._

She looked entirely out of place; dressed in a manner that was quintessentially Adore and glaringly 21st century, scrappy and messy with holes in her jeans and a shirt that didn’t quite fit and a three-inch rootline in her scarlet hair. Though it wasn’t purposeful as it has once been. It wasn’t the type of meticulous sloppiness that Bianca had come to know and expect from her daughter; it was the look of somebody who had utterly lost the will to continue, and that was a look that Bianca knew all too well. Bianca stared at her in disbelief and shock; raising one hand to her face and biting down on her knuckle to keep herself from crying out for her, or sobbing, or both at once.

 _For fuck’s sake, Bianca_ _._ She felt her thoughts punch her out of her daze. _This is your chance. You need to speak to her. You need to tell her that you want to stay._

And yet she couldn’t force her feet to move; couldn’t unball her clenching fists to wave and get Adore’s attention; and her tongue sat dumb and useless in her mouth, threatening to choke her if she tried to speak. She felt the swell of a sob rise in her diaphragm and that was as close as she was apparently getting to speech; the sensible part of her brain that knew she had to get her act together and go and talk to her being overridden by the other half that had flipped into total panic mode.

She had been thinking and dreaming about this exact moment since the second she’d stepped foot into San Junipero. All this time, and one thing she had wanted desperately was to be able to see her again. She had all-but planned exactly what she was going to say. She had, of course, heard every single conversation between Adore and the doctors, or at least the gist of them, and she knew all of the girl’s fears.She wanted desperately to run up to her; to take her into her arms and hold her tight and breathe in her familiar, beautiful scent - of cigarettes, and fresh sweat, and a sort of nondescript sweetness - and tell her that everything was okay; that nothing about what happened was her fault, that she loved her. But that she needed to let her go. And to let her stay. She wanted to take her to that beach where she and Court had sat under the stars in the fifties, and show her everything that was so beautiful about this place. She wanted to let her meet Courtney. And she wanted to tell her that she had to go and start living her own life again. And in the daydream, each and every thing about this always unfolded perfectly.

But this wasn’t that stupid daydream; this was actually happening, right in front of her, and Bianca was just standing and watching her with a look of empty near-tearfulness on her face as Adore shouldered through the crowd, still absently and urgently scanning faces, until her eyes locked on Bianca’s. And her jaw slackened, her mouth hanging ajar - her dark eyes turning glassy, her breath stopping. Bianca tried to force herself to move, her breath heavy and catching in her throat - stammering out her daughter’s name in a gritty voice that was scarcely a whisper. Bianca’s knuckles were white as she gripped the barrier; her face drained, her mind overcome and overwhelmed with the emotion of even seeing her, only half-convinced that she was real.

And then as suddenly as she had appeared…She was gone.

* * *

“No, fuck, I can’t do this!”

Adore had yanked the tiny white device from her temple and stood up, marching like a woman pursued to the other side of the empty room, before she could be stopped. Her trembling hands were clamped over her head, fingers clawing into her hair - empty, dry sobs wracking her body, the emotion of it all hitting her in waves before the tears had even gotten a chance to well. The brunette doctor (Putnam, Adore was half-sure her surname was, but she was too embarrassed to ask) stood by the door with her clipboard in her hand, staring on at the moment of madness, blank as a wall and entirely emotionless; her teeth scraping at her lower lip as she stared off at nothing in particular - a certain understated sadness to her face. Adore slumped into the corner, hugging her knees and dropping her head down - the noise of her crying quietly resonating around the room with the hollowness and poignancy of a last breath.

She had tried to tell herself that the woman she’d seen wasn’t her mother; she could have been anybody. It was a fucking costume party in there, and she could have been genuinely anybody. Her mom as she’d known her would have literally rather died than be seen in public wearing beige high-waisted slacks and a cable-knit sweater for one thing, and Adore had been so sure that finding her wouldn’t be that easy. But then she had heard her name in that voice that was so, so obviously her mother’s, and the other woman had caught her eye with this demented hope that had scared the shit out of Adore. If she had tried to speak to her, she would have just burst into tears, and she was terrified. Given half a chance, she knew that Bianca would have just let rip, and she knew it all - she didn’t want to have to hear it from her.

She felt sick. She had known that this was a bad idea all along, and this had simply proved it. Her mom just seemed so totally alone; so lonely and so frightened, and so…devoid. She had just been stood there. In the middle of all these people enjoying themselves, she had just been stood there, empty, and the confirmation of all that Adore knew hurt more than anything else she could remember feeling since this whole shitshow had started five years ago.

She remembered in horrible clarity what getting that call had been like. _There’s been an accident, your mom’s in the hospital._ And when she had asked if Bianca was alright, she had been met with seconds of silence, before being told that were she to come to her, she’d be coming to say goodbye. She felt that she’d said goodbye already, a hundred times, in a hundred little ways. When she had been told about the coma, and then the paralysis; about the grim prognosis for what might happen in the unlikely event of her mom ever waking up; to the three different times that her heart had stopped. To standing and listening, as though she were dreaming - watching somebody who was simultaneously herself but not experiencing it truly - as she was told that the police had ruled the stupid goddamn ‘accident’ that had taken her mom from her as a suicide.

She’d been on every trial of so many similar programs and each and every one had shown Adore this pathetic glimmer of hope before throwing it straight back in her face. San Junipero had never been something that she wanted for her because it would just be another something to give her false hope. And then another disappointment. And another goodbye.

She hadn’t wanted to be right, but she was. Her mom was still unhappy. She was still alone. That same sadness and emptiness and what-the-fuck-ever that had made her crash her car into a fucking wall was clearly still there. And now she just felt guilty for forcing her to keep living it; it was like she was doing everything wrong, again. She had hurt her then, when it happened, and it seemed that she was just continuing to hurt her.

“Adore…” The doctor crouched to her level, placing a hand on her shoulder - Adore flinching away as though the touch had scalded her, standing up with a sort of anger, leaning against the wall; choking her words out through tears, her eye makeup smearing with tears in grey rivulets down her cheeks.

“Leave me alone. I…I can’t be here. I need to go.”

* * *

“Oh my god…Bianca, sweetheart - what happened?”

Courtney had noticed Bianca’s hunched, hysterical form on the bench as she walked back from the bathroom in her socked feet, skates in hand; sitting down beside her and putting her arms around her; acutely aware of the people around them, staring at them, but physically unable to give a fuck. Bianca looked up at her, her eyes scarlet and swollen, tears streaming down her face and her bangs swept back from her face in a mess as she held her glasses in one balled fist, her other hand digging into her thigh, her whole body tense and shaking. The brunette stuttered out a few vague words - ‘Adore’ seemed almost decipherable, and the name made Courtney’s stomach drop - before she dropped her glasses forcefully, bending down and scrabbling frantically to try to untie her skates; in her franticness, her fingers barely grasped the laces; her entire body heaving as she sobbed.

“Sssh baby, it’s okay. You’re okay. I’m here.” Courtney placed one hand on Bianca’s, squeezing it tight and trying to calm her, using her other to untie her laces and pull her skates off; fishing the brunette’s black flatform loafers out from under the bench and letting her step into them - pulling on her own white boots and pulling Bianca upright.

She was focused not so much on whether or not Bianca was okay for now, but on getting her somewhere where she could be not-okay in peace. One arm around her, Courtney pushed them both through the crowds and into the parking lot; sitting Bianca down on the wall and crouching in front of her again, holding her hands tight. This wasn’t ideal, but in the absence of anywhere properly secluded it would have to do.

“What’s the matter, B?” Courtney fished a tissue from her purse, handing it to Bianca, who wiped away her running mascara and sniffed, her eyes puffy.  
  
“I’m fine…” she murmured through her swollen lips as she tried to force a smile; the expression empty and dull, not nearly that beautiful billion-dollar grin that Courtney had come to adore. Courtney pursed her lips.   
  
“No you’re not. What happened?”   
  
“I…” Bianca sighed heavily, squeezing Courtney’s hand. Her voice was flat and morose, the tears having taken everything out of her. “I saw Adore. And not like I thought I did, because that’s happened a few times, and I was always wrong but I…I saw her. And she saw me. She looked at me, she recognised me, and then she just…she just fucking disappeared…”   
  
“Bianca…”  
  
“I know it’s stupid, but I…This could have been my only chance to tell her. I’m…I’m getting worried, Courtney. I really don’t know how much time I have left at all, forget about here, and I…” She sighed, long and wavering. “They’re giving up on me. And they’re not trying to fight Adore on not keeping me here because after five years they’ve learnt that it’s really her way or the highway. Every time she’s there, there’s another discussion about just unplugging me, and I…I’m terrified, Courtney. I know my ‘life’” - she placed the word in a gesture of ersatz quotes - “sucks, but it’s only just beginning here, and even out of the other hundred and sixty-three hours in a week when I’m not here, it just…I’m not ready to die, Court….”  
  
“I know, sweetheart - I know. I wasn’t either. But then again, I didn’t get any time to think about it. I can’t even imagine how you feel, I…I don’t want to lose you. Not yet - not ever.” Courtney sniffed, her eyes welling. Bianca cracked a smile.

“God, don’t you start too. This is my weepy moment, asshole - step out of my limelight.”  
  
“Nobody’s watching us.”  
  
“Whatever. I just…I dunno how to feel. Nobody ever explains to you how to deal with this shit. Kids, comas, or the ethical shitshow that I’m currently stuck in. So it isn’t exactly coming easily.” She stopped, quietly thinking, taking a breath and wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “The one thing that Adore won’t shut up about is family. Like, Justin ain’t here, so why would I want to be? She’s obsessed with not wanting to leave me here because I’ll be alone. Newsflash, Dorey, but I spent thirty-six years babying him, picking up his dirty underwear from our bedroom floor, and listening to his shitty jokes - he wasn’t that great. I’m not too heartbroken about not spending my afterlife doing the same shit.” She paused, sighing heavily. “…But you can bet your sweet ass that in however many years where she’s terminally ill or taking her dying breaths after some stupid accident, then she’ll be kicking, screaming, and begging to wind up here. She’s clearly not thinking right now, and she’ll regret it when she’s got her head on fucking straight in a few years, but I don’t exactly have another few years to wait for that to happen.”

“I’m so sorry, B…” Courtney nervously looked to the other woman in her peripheral, wringing her hands in her lap as she glanced down; warring with herself to keep the tears that she felt stinging at bay. The thought of having to be without her even from week to week, forget forever, was almost too much to bear, and even that was just her being selfish. What exactly was she losing? Her life? No. This wasn’t her problem to be upset about, it was Bianca’s. And yet…It still hurt.

“Y’know, Justin had three different boyfriends when we were married, and I knew about every damn one of em.” Bianca gave a wry smile, a small laugh playing about her voice. “There was Martin - that was when Adore was little. He didn’t tell me about that one, but he spilled when I found his texts. I never gave a fuck. Joey actually lived with us for a while once she moved out; him and Justin used to sleep spooning on the twin bed in Dorey’s old room while I got our queen to myself. He’d just split with Carlos when he passed. He practically wasn’t my husband, he was like my live-in GBF from when Adore was like, twelve onwards.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. And I slept with another woman the night of his funeral. Her name was Katya, she was some Russian chick I picked up at a bar, by some miracle.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s weird…Like, no matter how hard you try you’ll never actually know jack shit about another person. Definitely not your parents. Sure, you know some better than others, but for every one thing you actually understand about somebody, there’s another hundred that you don’t know the fucking half of. And that’s what fucking sucks ass about having no autonomy over yourself; I don’t want other people to get to make decisions about my life when they’re never going to really know what goes on in it…”

Courtney stood up, sitting down next to her and putting an arm around her, pulling her close and breathing in her scent. Bianca stroked her hair back from her face, the two of them close together and blissful despite it all.

“Bianca…For what it’s worth, if this is all we get, then I’m still so happy. I’m glad I met you.”  
  
“Thanks, Court.” She smiled - genuine this time, brighter and lighter even in spite of the tear streaks down her face and her reddened eyes.   
  
“No, seriously. You’re fucking incredible, and I…I’ve been here for years and I don’t think I’ve spoken to the same person more than twice, and…I dunno if dead people can have soulmates, but if they can-”

“Urgh, barf. Quit while you’re ahead, Court. That’s gross.”

“Well, it was worth a try.” Courtney smiled, pulling Bianca close to her into a gentle kiss; Bianca pulling closer to her and deepening the affection - what had started out as being tender turning desperate and starving. “Hmm, somebody’s changed their tune.”

“Can we go back to your place?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

* * *

A few orgasms and a shared shower later, and Courtney fell asleep next to a blissed-out Bianca. She woke up next to an empty space yet again the next morning. It was in the moments where she was alone that it stung the most. In her mind, she’d be okay with this being it. But as soon as she was without Bianca, it started to hurt again. She didn’t want to lose her. At all.

But hey - maybe Bianca was just making it worse by overthinking, convincing herself of the worst in her own mind. Whilst ‘cerebral’ was perhaps not the easiest word to attribute to the brunette, when she overthought things she really went to town on it. She could only wait until the next time. And hope.

* * *

_The love, the echoes of long ago,_   
_You needed the world to know,_   
_They are in Xanadu._   
_The dream that came through a million years,_   
_That lived on through all the tears,_   
_It came to Xanadu._

_Xanadu, your neon lights will shine  
For you, Xanadu_


End file.
